Chuck vs The Shadow of Death
by Linwe Elendil
Summary: One week after being captured by Fulcrum agents and witnessing Chuck's murder, Sarah Walker wakes up in the hospital. But is everything as it seems? And what happened to Chuck's body? WARNING: Chapter one contains angst, torture, and major character death
1. Fear No Evil

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Chuck. I wish! I don't even have a Tron poster in my room! Does Star Wars count for anything?

**WARNING! This story contains exponential amounts angst, torture, and a major character death! I have no idea why I wrote it (or why my muse chose to make this my first foray into the world of Chuck), and I can guarantee it will not make you feel warm and fuzzy. There is no squee moment at the end – nothing to make it all better. If you do venture to read, I would suggest having tissues nearby. I certainly needed them!**

**(Edit - there's hope yet! If you keep reading to chapter two, that is... If you stop at the end of this chapter, well, that would be seriously depressing!)**

* * *

The tall figure stumbled through the darkness of the courtyard, one limp arm swinging with each painful step. A short pause to summon the energy to raise one bloody fist before knocking on the door. For a moment, it appeared as though no one heard, and the weary individual slumped against the wood, tears streaming. Unprepared for the sudden wrenching of the impromptu resting place, the limp body tumbled into the room, cheek hitting the cold floor of the entryway hard.

"Oh, my god!" The voice registered as familiar. "Devon, honey! I need you here, quick!" Strong arms lifted the prone, numb figure to the couch.

Summoning the last reserves of strength, bleeding lips uttered, "I'm so sorry. I couldn't protect him." And Sarah Walker passed out.

**xXx**

_**4 hours earlier:**_

Sarah tried not to cringe as the Fulcrum agent leaned over Chuck's unconscious body. Unable to endure even the thought of torture, Chuck had tricked himself into passing out – his one reliable defense mechanism. Their captor had diverted his attention to Sarah for the last few hours, but seemed to have grown bored of her near complete silence, and was shifting his attention back to Chuck. Sarah forced down her own pain and spoke as the man prodded him again. "I've already told you everything I know. He's a CIA analyst, and I'm his handler. We've been trying to find the Intersect for the last two years, just like you."

"Yeah, so you've said," the man replied. "The trouble is, I don't believe you." He walked back over to her, and Sarah hid a sigh of relief. "And I don't like liars," he said as he leered. She longed to break his nose, but her hands were cuffed securely behind her back. Brushing a hand down her shoulder, he reached out with a quick twist and dislocated it. She screamed, but said nothing more. "You know, you're really no fun at all," he joked, making his way back to Chuck. "Then again, neither is he. This has got to be the most boring torture session I've ever conducted. What say we make it a little more interesting?" He pulled a gun from its side holster and briefly checked the clip.

"What are you doing?" Sarah demanded, trying not to let her panic show.

"Well – if this 'analyst' really means nothing to you – I suppose you won't mind if I kill him." Sarah bit her tongue, tasting fresh blood in her mouth as the man pulled out his weapon and released the safety. She was determined to stand firm – call the man's bluff. But the sight of the cold barrel resting on Chuck's forehead was too much.

"No, don't!" she called. "I'll tell you what you want to know."

"Will you?" he replied, turning to her. "Will you really?" He lowered the weapon, and Sarah began to breathe again – until Chuck's body flew off the chair, the sound of the bullet garbled through the sudden rushing in her ears.

"NO!" she screamed, the cry echoing longer than the gun blast. "CHUCK!" Tears blurred her vision, but she saw a dim figure approach. Time seemed to slow, taking with it her grief. Only one thing was clear – she had to get Chuck out of this hellhole. _I won't let him die, _she promised herself. _Not here. Not now._

"I'm only going to ask you one more time, Agent Walker." Sarah looked up at him, blinking hard to clear her vision. She could hardly feel her own tears falling. "Where is the Intersect?"

A strange euphoria kicked in, and Sarah felt herself begin to laugh without really understanding why. She rocked back and forth, gasping for air as her hysteria built on itself. A sharp slap sent her head spinning, her laughter dying on her bleeding lips. She looked at him, imagining a hundred unpleasant ways to end the man's life. He looked calmly back, raising the gun to a point between her eyes.

She took a shuddering breath. "Well you're in a helluva lot of trouble," she said, smiling. Sarah almost laughed again, but a painful jab to her forehead snapped her back to reality. The man raised one eyebrow. Tasting every agonizing word, Sarah spoke. "The Intersect's name is Chuck Bartowski," she said, fresh tears trailing down her cheeks. "And you just shot him."

As she knew he would, the man turned to the other prisoner, his jaw dropping. At that second, his back was to her – his attention elsewhere. Channeling all of her hate and energy, Sarah kicked out with both feet at her captor's thigh. She felt something give, and the man fell to the floor, screaming. Kicking the gun out of his grasp, Sarah stood. With one foot, she turned him onto his back, and sat hard on his sternum, pressing her cuffs into his throat. She looked back over her shoulder at his face as she said, "Take them off. Now." He tried to throw her off, his face turning purple. She eased up her grasp on his neck just long enough to bounce hard on his chest – relishing the sound of his breaking ribs. "Now!" she yelled. He didn't hesitate, and a moment later, she was free. With a dancer's grace she climbed to her feet, reaching quickly for the gun, before pointing it in his face.

"No, please," he gurgled – one of his broken ribs had clearly punctured a lung. He only had minutes left. Part of her wanted to watch him suffer. To see him slowly choke to death on his own blood. But a faint sound from across the room caught her attention.

"Sarah…"

Without stopping to think, she aimed at the man's right eye. "Believe me," she told him, "I'm doing you a favor." One round ended his agony, and Sarah didn't hesitate as she picked her way through the debris that separated her from Chuck.

"Sarah…" She fell to her knees beside him, ignoring the sharp splinters of glass that lodged themselves into her calves. A dark stain was spreading rapidly across his starched, white shirt, and she dropped the weapon, placing both hands against the flow of blood – knowing the wound was mortal, but all the while praying for a miracle.

"Chuck, you're going to be okay," she lied, "But I need to go get you some help." He grasped her hands weakly.

"No. Don't leave me." Her stomach twisted, but she didn't move. She couldn't. "I'm sorry," he said in a whisper. She tried unsuccessfully to swallow the painful lump in her throat. "I'm sorry that –"

"Don't you dare apologize for anything," she said harshly. "You didn't do anything wrong, Chuck. You're a hero." She sniffed loudly. "Even though you never wanted to be." He took a gasping breath as she continued. "I'll make sure everyone knows it," she promised. "Ellie, Morgan, everyone. Just…" she stopped, a sob escaping her throat, "Don't leave me. Please."

"I don't want to," he said, his eyes drifting closed. "It doesn't hurt anymore, actually." Sarah sobbed again.

"Chuck," she whispered, "Look at me." His eyes were slow to open, and she began to fear it was too late. But when his unfocused gaze finally found hers, she smiled at him. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he murmured. "But I think you already knew that." Their eyes still locked, Sarah leaned down – her hair falling like a halo around his head – and kissed him softly. With one last smile, his breathing stilled, and he was gone.

"I'm so sorry…" she sobbed, burying her face into his blood soaked shirt. Agony unlike anything she had ever known tore through her, and she screamed as she clutched him tighter, wishing for nothing more than the world to fall down around them both. She had no way of knowing how long she lay there with him, until strong hands pried hers loose with an uncommon gentleness.

"C'mon, Walker," Casey said, trying to check her for injuries. "It's over. He's gone."

"No!" she screamed, clutching for him again. She recoiled as she noticed how cold he'd become, and stared at his face instead, etching its peaceful expression into painful memory.

"You need to get to a hospital," her partner said softly. "I'll take care of Chuck." A sob escaped Sarah's throat at the mention of his name, and she hugged her arms across her chest.

"What am I going to tell Ellie?" she whispered, fresh tears streaming down her face.

"I'll take care of that," Casey replied, reaching out a hand to help her to her feet. Sarah took it, while surreptitiously reaching for the discarded gun with her other hand. She used her position as leverage to pull Casey to the ground, at the same time swinging the weapon into sharp contact with his head. His limp form fell next to Chuck's, his breathing slow and steady.

"I can't let you do that," she said in apology, knowing he couldn't hear her. "It's my fault." She leaned down once more, brushing a soft kiss across the forehead of the man she'd loved before standing unsteadily. After rummaging through Casey's pocket for car keys, she stumbled from the warehouse, one goal focused in her mind. _I have to get to Ellie before anyone else does._

**xXx**

That was how she came to find herself propped up in the Bartowski's living room, bandages and ice covering the worst of her injuries. Ellie sat near her feet, carefully picking glass from her shins. Sarah groaned and tried to push herself up, only to find Devon's strong hand pressing her shoulder back into the pillows.

"I've called an ambulance," he said gently. Sarah was surprised she still had the presence of mind to note his tone. _He really does have a good bedside manner, _she thought. "They'll be here soon."

It was as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown over her head. "No!" she cried, trying again to sit up.

"Sarah, sweetie," Ellie began, "You have multiple lacerations, a dislocated shoulder, and what looks to be a very bad concussion. We need to get you to the hospital and check for internal bleeding." At the wild look of panic on her friend's face, her eyes softened. "What happened?" Sarah shook her head, fighting back memories of the last few hours. She'd come here for a reason, and she was determined to see it through.

"Ellie," she said, her voice breaking. "I'm so sorry. I couldn't protect him."

"You said that before," Devon observed.

"Is Chuck okay?" Ellie asked suddenly, the terrible possibilities only starting to dawn on her. All Sarah could do was sob and shake her head. Tears streamed down the doctor's face as one hand flew to her throat. "Is he… dead?" Sarah didn't say anything. But she didn't need to. Ellie began to scream, and Devon raced to collect her in his arms. Sarah watched as he stroked her back and rocked her gently back and forth, suddenly very conscious of just how alone she was now. Tasting bile, Sarah jumped up from the couch, reaching the kitchen sink just in time to throw up. She was still heaving long after her stomach had emptied itself, moving back into the living room only when a calming numbness spread through her. Sitting as far away from the couple as she could, Sarah listened for sounds of a siren so she would know when to make her exit. She'd be damned if she'd let herself be taken to the hospital now. Devon's voice snapped her out of her reverie.

"What happened?" he asked. Sarah looked up at him, watching as he cradled his fiancée. She took a deep breath, determined to get everything out while the blessed numbness persisted.

"I work for the CIA," she began. "So does Bryce Larkin. Two years ago, Bryce emailed Chuck coded images from a joint CIA/NSA computer called the Intersect. When Chuck opened the email, these images were embedded into his brain. He's been working with us ever since – giving us intel that has helped save thousands of lives. He's a hero," she whispered, taking another breath. "John Casey works for the NSA. The two of us became Chuck's handlers – we protected him from a rogue organization within the CIA that wanted nothing more than to get their hands on him. It was decided that I would pose as Chuck's girlfriend while Agent Casey took a job at the Buy More. It was the perfect cover – until Fulcrum started sending agents. None of them ever had the chance to report back to their superiors, but the fact that Fulcrum agents had a habit of disappearing around this particular location was enough to make them suspicious. Early this morning, they set up an ambush, running Chuck and I off the road on our way into work…" She paused, not wanting to hurt Chuck's family with the gruesome details of the torture.

"And Chuck is dead?" Ellie asked, her voice that of a hurt child. Sarah couldn't respond, only nodded as fresh tears fell. Somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered if they would ever stop. She watched as Ellie slowly stood, Devon's hand tightly gripping her elbow. Ellie made her way over to Sarah, swallowing hard. Before the agent could react, Ellie slapped her hard across her already bruised and swollen face, causing the world to darken and her ears to ring.

"Ellie, don't," Devon said, trying to grab her still swinging hand. Sarah didn't even try to protect herself from the blows, knowing she deserved every last one of them.

"He loved you!" Ellie screamed. "Chuck _**loved**_ you – I could see it in his eyes. And he was _**nothing **_to you, wasn't he? Just a _**tool**_ – something that could use. Did you ever once think about his feelings? _Did you ever really care what happened to him?_" Devon grabbed her around the waist, bodily hauling her across the room. Sarah didn't move – still slumped in defeat.

"I loved him," she whispered. Ellie's sobs drowned out her own, but the dam had burst, and Sarah found she could contain it no longer. "I loved him!" she screamed at the ceiling. "_**I LOVED HIM!!!**_" She fell into a heap on the floor, just as the front door burst open. Casey entered, his gun at the ready. Finding the room empty of the enemy, he raised his watch.

"It's clear," he whispered into the microphone. "I've got her." He bent down and grasped Sarah's wrists just long enough to place them in handcuffs. "For your own protection," he said, wincing as he rubbed the back of his head. "And mine." But she knew he needn't have bothered. There was no fight left in Sarah Walker. She lay limp, her eyes pleading with him to do what he did best and end her agony. "Not today," he murmured, pulling a syringe from his pocket. He injected it into her shoulder, and Sarah felt the world become cloudy. Casey's voice seemed garbled as he said, "Chuck's body is being taken to the morgue. There's no need for you to identify the body, but if you'd like to see him…" The last thing Sarah heard was Ellie's renewed sobs before everything faded gently to black.

* * *

Okay, so that was depressing! There's really no upside to this. It just popped into my head, begging to be set down on paper. Made me go through _**tons**_ of tissues, too!!! :-(

I don't know if I even want to continue this… A funeral would just be even more miserable.


	2. Lie Down in Green Pastures

Disclaimer: Nothing's new here. Move along.

Thank heaven for reviewers!!! Anne Rose gave me just the idea I needed to dig my way out of the Pit of Despair my muse flung me into (and no, don't own the rights to _The Princess Bride_, either…)! So read on! Things are about to get a lot more interesting. :-)

(And a lot less depressing!)

* * *

Sarah awoke to a steady, rhythmic beating. Her eyes were stuck together with sleep, and she groaned as pain began to register. It was everywhere – though she couldn't seem to remember why. From the heaviness of her limbs she guessed they'd put her on Loritab, so whatever it was, it had been bad. She tried for a moment to move each finger and toe, relieved that at least she wasn't paralyzed. The extent of the damage wouldn't be clear until she could get a good look at herself, though she was beginning to think her eyes had swollen shut.

"Walker?" Sarah's body jerked in reflex, sending spasms through too-long dormant muscles. She grimaced, but all she did was cause more agony to her bruised face.

"God…" she moaned.

"Here," the voice said, placing a small cylinder in her hand before directing her thumb to a button. "Push this. Morphine. You'll get more Loritab in an hour or two." _No wonder I can't move – with a cocktail like that in my system, I'm surprised I'm conscious._ Though she was seriously beginning to wish she wasn't. She groaned again, gave in, and pressed the button.

"Where am I, Casey? What happened?" Her lower lip split open as she spoke, spilling blood down her chin. She wanted to wipe away the annoying trickle, but she couldn't move. Thankfully her partner grabbed a tissue and took care of it for her.

"You don't remember?" he asked. She could hear the hesitation in his voice, and would have furrowed her brow, if it wouldn't have caused immense pain. Searching her memory, she came up blank.

"No," she murmured. "The last thing I remember was picking up Chuck for work."

"Fulcrum prepared an ambush – ran you two off the road a week ago."

"A week? How long were we missing?"

"Only about five hours. But they worked you over pretty bad. Doctors decided to keep you out of it for a few days." She didn't need to be able to see his face to know he was lying. Or at least, not telling her the whole truth.

"And, Chuck?" Casey cleared his throat, and Sarah willed herself not to cry. "Casey? Tell me. Where is Chuck?"

"Well…"

"Is he dead?" Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, somehow squeezing their way out past the swelling. She heard his shuffling feet. "_Casey!_" she yelled, trying to reach for him. It was then that she realized she'd been restrained. Lying back against the pillows, she forced herself to take a deep breath. Realization dawned. "Why can't I remember anything?" Silence. "They gave me Propranolol, didn't they?" Casey grunted. "He's dead." It wasn't a question. She heard his feet shuffle again.

"He was," he said cryptically.

"Was?" she replied, confused.

"His body disappeared on the way to the hospital morgue."

"What?"

"The CIA covered the whole thing up, and Bartowski's sister buried an empty coffin."

"Well, where is he?"

"We don't know. Current theory is that Fulcrum took the body."

"Just like Bryce," she whispered. "But that means…"

"We don't know anything for sure, Walker."

"Chuck might still be alive."

"Even if they somehow managed to revive him, he's in _Fulcrum's hands_. Think about that, Walker. The Intersect in the hands of Fulcrum."

"They don't know Chuck is the Intersect," she said vehemently.

"We can't be sure of that," he replied.

"I _would_ know if those idiot doctors hadn't decided to wipe my memory. What happened to whoever tortured us?"

"Dead," Casey grunted. "Looks like you got free and took him out."

"What happened to Chuck?" she asked, suddenly needing to know.

"One shot to the abdomen. There were no other signs that he'd been worked over."

"But he probably had to watch," Sarah whispered, beginning to feel frustrated that she still couldn't see. "Just how bad am I?" she asked. "When do I get out of here?"

Her partner chuckled. "Probably not for another week or so. That guy knew what he was doing – maximum damage, but not the permanent kind. Concussion, dislocated shoulder, eyes swollen shut, broken nose and zygomatic, lacerations from a knife _and_ broken glass, hairline fracture in your wrist, a couple of ribs snapped like twigs…"

"How long are you planning to go on?" she interrupted, slightly nauseas.

"How long do you want me to?" he said. "Face it, Walker – you're out of the picture for a while." He chuckled. "I'd hate to be in your shoes."

"No kidding," she sighed. "So, who's leading the search for Chuck?"

"General Beckman's got a team working day and night."

"And I suppose you're in charge?"

"Damn straight," he said. She could hear the smile in his voice, and shook her head.

"Want to tell me why I'm restrained?" she said, changing topics.

"Uh…" She could hear the embarrassment in his voice.

"Casey?"

He sighed. "I'm the one that got to the two of you first. I was trying to help you, but you cold-cocked me and took off." Sarah smiled, knowing how much it hurt him to admit he'd been taken out by a woman half his size. Then she felt one of her teeth wiggle, and groaned. _Probably going to lose another one…_

"Do me a favor? I'd like out of these things."

"'Kay," Casey said. "You're sure you're not gonna hit me again?"

"No, but I might just shoot you the next time I have a weapon, if I stay chained to this bed much longer."

"Got it."

"And find me a doctor, would you?"

"More pain meds?"

She shook her head, immediately regretting it. It felt like someone was using her cranium for bongo practice. "I want to find out exactly how long I'm stuck in this place."

"Yeah."

"And I think I need to see a dentist."

"Not another one?" he said, sympathy evident in his voice.

"Probably," she answered. "You know, Casey, for such a tough guy, it really is surprising that you're afraid of dentists." He growled, and she could perfectly picture the scowl on his face.

"I'll go find someone," he muttered. She heard him walk to the door, but not open it. "Look, Sarah…"

"I know," she said sadly. "We'll get him back."

"But you should know –"

"He might not be alive when we find him." She nodded. "I understand."

"There'll be a guard outside your room 24/7."

"Thanks," she said. "Sorry I hurt you."

He snorted, and she smiled. "You didn't hurt me, Walker."

Sarah felt a faint breeze across her face as the door opened, and he was gone.

**xXx**

John Casey nodded to the guard who stood at attention just outside the room.

"No one else in or out, understand?"

"Yes, sir," the man replied, unblinking.

Walking briskly down the hall, he pulled out his cell and hit number one on his speed dial. The call was answered after two rings.

"Major Casey, report," General Beckman said, succinct as ever.

"Agent Walker has regained consciousness. The Propranolol worked, but she guessed she'd been given some. I think she's calm enough now to be taken out of the restraints."

"What's her prognosis?"

"I spoke to her doctor half an hour ago – she'll be here for at least another week, and unable to return to active duty for thirty days. And that's the optimistic version."

"I'll be sure to pass that information on to the CIA," the General replied. "And in the meantime, Major – you have your assignment."

"Find Chuck Bartowski."

"I want the Intersect back in our hands five minutes ago. The longer his body remains missing…"

"The greater the chance Fulcrum has to revive him and pump him for information."

"You know Bartowski fairly well by now, Major. How long to you think he can last?"

"Let me put it this way, General… Do you have an egg timer?" She didn't reply, and he disconnected the call. He had work to do.

**xXx**

Lying alone in her room, Sarah finally let the tears fall freely. Her chest ached from holding in her sobs – which only compounded the pain of broken ribs. But she wouldn't break. Not again. Not now that there was a chance that Chuck was still alive. Try as she might, she couldn't stop seeing him topple out of his chair, or the smile on his face as he took what she had thought to be his last breath. If Beckman had done her homework, she would have known that Sarah's physiology resisted the work of most beta-blockers. Casey's list of her injuries had brought her torture back to painful recollection, along with the events that followed. While it was true that her memories were hazy, they had not disappeared altogether. And watching the scene play out in her mind over and over only made her more determined.

_I'm going to find a way out of here. And I'm going to find Chuck – even if it's only to bring his body back to his sister._

_I owe him that much._

* * *

Okay, so maybe there is a way out of all of this sadness! :-D


	3. Beside Still Waters

Disclaimer: Still the same, sad truth. :-(

Here's the next installment! Figured it might help if I cleared something up from the last chapter. Among Sarah's list of injuries, Casey said that her zygomatic bone was broken. I only used the technical term because it sounded so much better than "cheek bone", but that's all it is.

* * *

Sarah wasn't sure how long it had been since Casey's visit, but the next time she opened her eyes, she was relieved to note that she could see. Things were a bit blurry, so she hit the button for a nurse, hoping for a cool washrag. The person who answered the page however, was the last person she expected.

"Good to see someone's awake again," Ellie said, sitting on the edge of Sarah's bed. "How are you feeling?" From the doctor's shameful expression, it was clear she felt terrible about attacking Sarah the day Chuck died. _But I'm not supposed to be able to remember that, so I can't bring it up. Not that I want to…_

"Like every inch of me was methodically run over by a dozen freight trains," she replied, wincing.

"No offense, but that's kind of what you looked like a week ago," a new voice supplied.

"Devon?" Sarah couldn't be sure of his face – he was still too far away – but she recognized the voice.

"Yeah," he replied, coming over to stand by his fiancée. "How're you holding up?" he asked Sarah.

"How long has it been?" she asked instead, preferring not to talk about how she felt. The proverbial knife in her chest appeared to have been fused there – sending agonizing grief through her with each beat of her heart – but the less she talked about it, the easier it was to ignore. For now.

Devon looked down at Ellie. "Three days, right?"

"Since the first time I woke up?" Sarah asked, shocked.

"You're on some heavy painkillers," Ellie added. "That's not uncommon."

The agent nodded thoughtfully. "So, when do I get out of here?"

"You're looking at a few more days," Devon supplied. "Maybe even a week."

"A week?" she replied, incredulous. Her voice lowered conspiratorially. "Isn't there any way to get me out of here sooner? I don't like hospitals…"

"I can't say it surprises me," Devon said. "I prefer to be on the move myself – and I don't even work for the CIA." Sarah pretended to be shocked.

"CIA? I don't know what you mean."

Ellie winced. "You told us who you were the day that… you came to tell us…" Sarah swallowed hard. Devon laid a comforting hand on Ellie's shoulder as she took a deep breath. "We had a meeting with a woman named General Beckman from the NSA. She confirmed everything you said."

"Oh," Sarah replied. "Then I guess there's no point in pretending anymore."

"Not really," Devon said – sympathy evident on his face.

"About that day," Ellie said suddenly. Sarah could see the apology in the woman's eyes, and tried to find some way to reassure her without revealing that she hadn't lost her memory of the day's events. "I said and did some things that I'm not proud of." The doctor looked down at her hands, and Sarah reached out to grasp them.

"I can't imagine what it must have been like for you," she said as Ellie finally looked at her. "I don't remember what happened, but whatever it was, I'm positive there's nothing I would blame you for."

"Thanks," Ellie said with a sad smile, "But that doesn't stop me from blaming myself." She gestured around the room. "At the very least, it got you some nice flowers." Sarah gasped as she caught sight of the myriad of carnations and roses that were spread about the small room.

"You didn't have to do that," she whispered.

"Yes, I did," Ellie answered, squeezing her hand in return. "But as for getting out of here, I'm sorry to say that I don't see that happening soon. You have quite the set of injuries. Some of them are well on their way to healing, but others are going to take time. You're probably looking at one more week."

"Another week?" Sarah said in shock. She shook her head. "I can't wait that long. Is there any way you could find my doctor? I'd like to see what my options are."

"Well, you're looking at her," Devon said with a nod to Ellie. Sarah bit her lip.

"No offense, but… second opinion?"

"And you're looking at him," he replied. Sarah sighed in frustration. "I'm sorry, but I agree with Ellie. If you were my patient, I wouldn't be letting you go just yet, either."

"Why? I feel fine," Sarah lied.

"For someone who was 'methodically run over by a dozen freight trains', you don't look so good." Sarah couldn't look at him. "Wait… you haven't seen yourself, have you?"

"No," she conceded. "I couldn't even open my eyes three days ago." Ellie cringed in sympathy. "And, at this point, I'm not sure I want to see." Scenarios flashed through her memory. _Monte Carlo, Brazil, Paris, _even _Ecuador_ probably hadn't been this bad. But there was only one way to know for sure. "Is there a mirror?"

"I'll go and get one," Devon said, immediately heading for the door. Sarah looked at Ellie, determined to take her mind off the mounting anxiety that threatened to spill past her eyes.

"I know my upper body has been through the mill, but what about my legs? Can I at least go for a walk sometime?"

"Hmm," Ellie said, thinking. She looked her patient over with a critical eye. "I don't see why not, though we'll need to get you a sling."

"Dislocated shoulder," Sarah said, nodding.

"I've got to warn you, though – it's really going to hurt. I mean, you'll be lucky if you can even stand getting to your feet. Your head in particular is going to take issue with that."

"I understand," Sarah replied. "Believe me, this wasn't my first torture session," she said, surprised at how candid she was being. She'd never pictured herself talking about her spy life with Chuck's sister. It was an interesting experience.

And not one that would likely get to be repeated – based on the frown Ellie wore. "I'm sorry, Sarah – you probably don't remember, but no one else will tell me what happened to Chuck. I know he was shot, but they ended up not letting me see his body." Sarah swallowed hard. _Because it disappeared._ "I just want to know… was he tortured, too?"

Twisting the bed sheet in her hands, Sarah thought about how best to answer. She couldn't afford Casey finding out that her memory was intact, but she couldn't stand the thought of Ellie struggling with the uncertainty of her brother's last moments. Then the perfect solution hit her, and she reached for the doctor's hand.

"I asked Casey the same thing, and he said that aside from being shot, Chuck wasn't touched."

"But how can you be sure?" Ellie asked, looking at her earnestly. "What if he was just trying to spare your feelings?"

Sarah managed a small smile. "Because he's my partner, and I trust him." _As much as one spy can trust another._

"Thanks," Ellie said, just as Devon returned.

"As ordered," he declared, handing Sarah the mirror – face down, "one unpleasant dose of reality." His features softened. "Are you sure you want to see this?"

The agent nodded, taking a deep breath. One hand kept hold of Ellie's, while the other gripped the mirror's handle. She couldn't help the feeling that she was one of those hapless victims in a horrible B movie – the one that optimistically had their bandages removed only to find they now had the face of an insect. But her unease remained; regardless of how childish it made her feel. The fact that Devon and Ellie weren't particularly reassuring didn't help boost her confidence. "Here goes," she whispered, closing her eyes as she lifted the mirror to her face. _Chuck would accept me, no matter what I look like_, she told herself. It gave her the courage she needed to open her eyes.

Sarah felt her clinical detachment taking over as her eyes scanned the black and blue mass that was once considered a striking face. The swelling was so bad that it looked as though someone had planted an orange in her right cheek – and this was after a week and a half of healing! The bruises around her eyes were turning a sickly yellow which – combined with the puffiness – reminded her faintly of bananas. Her lips were swollen and scabbed, their texture that of a particularly bumpy strawberry. When the white bandage on her forehead summoned up the image of a foam cup, Sarah started to laugh despite the throbbing pain it caused in her ribs.

"Are you okay?" Ellie asked in concern.

Recounting her observations, Sarah said, "I think I've been working at the Orange Orange too long." The two doctors laughed right along with her, and for a moment, everything felt normal. Until Sarah remembered the one person who should've been here. Who would have refused to leave her side. Looking at Ellie and Awesome, Sarah thought furiously. She had to get out of here – had to start her own search for Chuck. The last she had heard, Bryce was still deep undercover inside Fulcrum. And, having been a patient of theirs before, Sarah was sure he would be able to lead her to their facilities. _And I'm the only one that can find Bryce_. But how much did she dare risk telling her friends? _Anything it takes to get Chuck back._ Knowing it might very well cost her her job, Sarah placed the mirror gently in her lap.

"Ellie, I think I'd like to go for that walk now. Or at the very least, take a spin around the hospital in a wheelchair." She flashed her most sincere smile, which the doctor returned.

"One wheelchair coming up," Devon replied, heading for the door again. Sarah watched him leave.

"He really is a great guy," she said, glancing back at Ellie. "But I'm sure you know that." The two women smiled at one another.

"Yeah," Ellie sighed, "I know how lucky I am." Her brow furrowed, and Sarah had a feeling she knew what was coming. She thought furiously for a new topic of conversation to head the woman off, but came up empty. "You know, the other night… Devon told me you said something… about being in love with Chuck." She looked earnestly into Sarah's eyes, and the agent saw pain there. "Was it true? Did you love my brother?" Sarah took a deep breath, willing herself not to cry.

"It was complicated at first. Before Bryce's supposed death – " she stopped herself, "Did you know he's still alive?"

"Yes," Ellie answered. "General Beckman told us."

"Okay. Good," Sarah picked up where she'd left off. "Bryce and I were partners." She paused. "In every sense of the word." She looked at Ellie, who nodded her understanding. "When I first met Chuck, I had recently heard about Bryce's 'death', and was only concerned with finding the Intersect – to clean up Bryce's mistake." She looked down at her hands. "I got myself close to Chuck by flirting with him, but in the end, I practically had to set up our date myself." She smiled. "I don't really remember when I started seeing Chuck for who he was – a decent guy who didn't deserve the mess Bryce had made of his life. And I'm not sure when I fell in love with him." She shook her head. "It must've happened somewhere along the way." Ellie reached out and took the agent's hand, just as Devon returned with the wheelchair.

"Ready for your turn around the block?" he said, coming over to the bed. Sarah nodded, and Awesome set to work transferring her IV to the rack attached to the chair, while Ellie put her right arm in a sling. The hard part was moving Sarah herself. Sitting up was agonizing, but she managed to bite back a cry as she swept her legs out from under the sheet. She tried standing up, but the throbbing in her head made her dizzy, and she couldn't keep her feet. Luckily Devon was right there, grabbing her gently around her waist – doing his best to avoid touching her dislocated shoulder and broken ribs. She winced anyway as his strong arm came in contact with one of her two dozen bruises. "Sorry about that," he said, guiding her into the chair. Ellie slipped some socks on Sarah's feet before placing a warm blanket around her legs. Sarah pulled it up over her chest one-handed, telling herself not to tuck it under her chin. It was something she hadn't done since childhood – when she'd come to terms with the fact that her father was no help after a nightmare. "So, where to?" Awesome asked, taking his place behind the chair.

"You guys have some kind of atrium, right?"

"Sure," Ellie said, nodding to Devon. "I'm sorry to say that I can't join you. I have some patients I have to visit." Sarah tried to think of a way to convince her to come, but Devon beat her to it.

"Oh, come on, babe," he said imploringly. "You can take a few minutes off, can't you?" Sarah held her breath – or would have if it didn't hurt. But she needn't have worried.

Ellie conceded with a smile. "I guess I can. Just not too long." It was only after they'd made it out of range of the guard that Sarah tried to turn and look up at Devon. The movement sent agony down through her injured shoulder, but Ellie leaned down to see what was wrong. "You okay?"

"I will be. I was just wondering if we could head to the cafeteria instead? I'm dying for some ice cream." As soon as the words left her mouth, Sarah wanted to recall them. Ice cream was the last thing she wanted, but she did need them to head to a more public place. And as far as anyone listening to her room was concerned, she was on her way to the atrium. She knew it wouldn't take a good agent long enough to figure out the change, so her time was limited. Luckily the cafeteria was close.

"Sure," Ellie said, nodding to Devon. Once they'd pushed Sarah's chair up to a table, Devon asked what she'd like. Sarah grabbed their hands in response.

"Please sit down. We don't have very long." She watched their brows furrow before continuing. "My room is probably bugged, and the ambient noise here will mask our conversation for the few minutes it will take anyone listening to realize that we didn't go to the atrium after all." The doctors must've been confused, but to their credit, they nodded and sat. "There's a lot to say, and not a lot of time, so please just listen. And you're not supposed to know about this, so you can't tell anyone, including Casey." She took a deep breath. "Chuck might still be alive." Ellie opened her mouth in shock, but Sarah kept going. "After Bryce was shot by Agent Casey, his body disappeared. The CIA covered it up, not sure where it had gone. It turned out Fulcrum got their hands on him and managed to revive him. Ellie, I'm sorry that you have to find out this way, but you buried an empty coffin. That's the reason the CIA wouldn't let you see his body. They don't have it anymore." She scanned the room – nothing yet, but time had to be running out. "That's why I have to get out of here. If Fulcrum really does have Chuck, Bryce is the only one who can find him. And I'm the only one who can find Bryce."

A dark-suited man stepped in to the cafeteria just then, and Sarah plastered a smile on her face. "A grape popsicle would be great. Thanks, Devon," she said, praying they would pick up on her subtle hint. She would have used her eyebrows to convey the message, but she couldn't move most of the muscles in her face yet.

"No problem," he replied, just a half a second too late. Sarah's eyes flickered to the man standing in the doorway. He was still scanning the room, but hadn't gotten to their corner yet. _Good,_ she thought as Awesome stood. Ellie looked at Sarah – a million questions in her eyes. With an infinitesimal shake of her head, she told the woman they would have to talk later.

"How's your head?" Ellie asked instead, falling into doctor mode by default. "You seem to be holding up fairly well, all things considered. But you look like you're in a lot of pain still. I could hook you up to the Morphine drip again."

"No," Sarah said, a bit too loudly. "Let's just say I've never been a fan of Morphine," she said with a smile. "And pain is an occupational hazard."

"I can only imagine," Ellie replied.

**xXx**

It was almost twenty-four hours later, and Sarah thought she would go mad. Since the trip to the cafeteria, Ellie and Devon hadn't so much as walked past her room. A nurse had helped her go for a walk a few hours ago, and it seemed the woman was anxious to get her on solid food. While it hurt her cheek to eat, Sarah was only too happy to oblige. She also noticed a marked decrease in her pain meds. She was no longer on enough to knock her out – though it didn't cover all the pain, either. But she didn't care. It was good to feel something again. Grabbing for the television remote left-handed, Sarah turned it off in disgust. She'd been watching some ridiculous Spanish soap opera to hone her language skills, but her patience for the ludicrous show had just run out. Surprised to hear the door open, Sarah turned toward the sound.

"Ellie?"

"Hey, there," the woman said, sitting on the edge of her bed. "Sorry I haven't been in to see you. Ten car pile-up this morning." She ran one hand along the muscles at the back of her neck. "Everyone had to help out."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Sarah said. "You don't have to keep me company," she lied. She was dying for someone to talk to. "Why don't you go get some rest?"

"No, it's okay," Ellie said, handing a book to her. "I've got something better than rest."

Sarah scanned the cover. "Sudoku?"

"Have you ever played it?"

"No." She shrugged. "Never really had time for puzzles."

"Well," Ellie said, gesturing for the book as she crossed her legs, "This is what I do to relax after a long day. Don't know why, but sometimes it's the only way I can get my mind to let go of everything." She flipped the book open and grabbed a pen from her breast pocket. "I'll get you started, but it's really fairly simple." She began to scribble. "The numbers one through nine must be placed, but not repeated, in each of the vertical lines, horizontal lines, and boxes." Sarah tried to raise her eyebrows in confusion. They didn't go far. Ellie chuckled. "Don't worry – it's not as hard as it sounds." She passed back the book.

Scrawled over the puzzle on the page, however, were not numbers, but words. _I know your room is bugged, but we have to talk._ Sarah's mouth dropped open in shock. Ellie was smarter than she had ever given her credit for.

Taking the offered pen, Sarah said, "Okay – let's see…" _I __have__ to get out of here_, she wrote. _Losing time._ Her sling made things a bit awkward, so she knew she would have to keep things short on her end. "Did I do that one right?" she asked, passing everything back to the doctor.

"Looks like you missed one," Ellie said, writing frantically. "I'll do the next square." When Sarah got the book back, she read, _We're working on that. You're on solid foods, but you'll probably still need codeine at the very least. I can sneak some into your purse. Right now Devon and I are trying to plan your 'escape'. Do you know when the guard changes?_

"Hmm…" Sarah bit her lip. "I think I understand what you did there. Let me see if I can do the next one." _Every six hours. Next change is at 0600_, she crossed the time out,_ 6:00 pm._ "How's that?" she said, passing the book again.

"Not bad," Ellie replied, the pen already moving. "What say we take turns, now that you're getting the hang of this?"

"Sure," Sarah said, settling back into her pillows. _Hang on, Chuck,_ she said to herself as she and Ellie plotted her freedom. _I'm coming to get you…_

**xXx**

Casey watched the hospital surveillance footage in shock as a tall woman – blond hair tucked up in a black baseball cap, wearing a simple dark t-shirt and jeans, a sling on her right arm – breezed calmly out the hospital doors and into an empty, unlocked car. Her walk was slightly unsteady, and the brim of the hat was pulled low over her features, but that didn't stop the Major from recognizing his own partner. _Walker,_ he thought to himself,_ what do you think you're doing?_

Grabbing the lapels of the guard who'd been on duty at the time, Casey slammed him back into the wall. "How the _hell_ did she escape?"

"I'm not sure, sir," he answered. To his credit, the man was able to remain calm. _Probably would've recommended him for a promotion, if he hadn't let Walker get away._ "But the only people who've been in to visit her were those two doctors."

"Bartowski's family," he grunted. _Figures they'd take his place as a thorn in my side._ "I want transcripts of everything that they talked about, do you understand me? And I mean _everything_." He got in the man's face for emphasis.

"Yes, sir – though I don't think it'll do you any good. The first visit, they didn't talk about the Intersect much, and when the woman came back they hardly talked at all. Spent most of the time playing Sudoku."

"They what?" Casey said, nearly letting the man go in shock.

"They played Sudoku, sir."

"You idiot," he growled. "Get me that book!" Casey stepped away from the man in disgust.

"The book, sir? May I ask why? I checked it before Dr. Bartowski took it in the room. There was nothing suspicious about it."

"Did you check it when she left?" Casey asked, getting in the man's face again.

"Why should I have –"

"Because they weren't solving any damn puzzles. They were having a conversation _in writing_!" He felt a macabre satisfaction as the man paled. _That's why he won't last long in the NSA. Can't think outside the box._

Dismissing the man to begin his search, Casey headed for the exit, pulling out his cell phone. A nurse looked condescendingly in his direction before pointing to a "Please turn off your cell phones" sign. He narrowed his eyes, his gaze following her as he brushed past, his phone still at his ear – daring her to do something about it. She swallowed and froze, her eyes wide. Once past her, Casey looked away and smiled grimly. Just then, his call was answered.

"Major Casey," Beckman greeted him.

"General," he said as he left the hospital and made a bee-line for his car.

"We have a problem."

* * *

Well, that was longer than I thought it would be! Not that anyone's going to complain. :-)

Thanks to all who have reviewed! I'm glad you like the new direction the story's taken. (And thanks to jagged1 for complimenting me on my writing of Casey. He's a fun – yet strangely complicated – character to write. I'm glad I seem to be getting him right. Don't know why, but that review made my day.) ;-)


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